Back view of a woman with long blonde hair and a light blue blouse, showing a small black fine line tattoo of a girl in a full skirt on the upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small girl in dress tattoo on upper back

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A small standing figure of a girl in a full-skirted dress is tattooed on the upper back, facing away from the viewer, with her hands held together in front of her. The design uses fine black linework with soft shading in the dress and hair, and the ink is entirely black and grey. The wearer's head and face are turned away, and the composition is centred on the tattoo against a pale blouse and blurred background.

Fine line Back Girl Dress Figure Hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You stand at the end of the north pier in your good grey dress, the one with the full skirt your aunt let out twice, and you do not turn round. Behind you the Mary Ellen is coughing up the slipway and your mother is shouting something about the nets. You keep your hands folded the way Sister Agnes taught you, one over the other, so nobody can see them shaking. The boats are going out in a line, eleven of them this morning, and the gulls follow behind like ash blown off a fire.

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Your father is on the fourth boat. You know which one by its blue wheelhouse and the way it rides low at the stern. Last winter the Gannet came back with its rail bent and a man missing, and nobody told you his name, but you learned it anyway from the chalk board outside the chandlers. Now you count the masts as they slide past the breakwater. Eleven. Eleven. You are not supposed to count out loud, so you do it with your lips closed, the way the old women count their beads.

When the last sail goes grey against the Skerries, you feel someone come up behind you and set a hand on your shoulder. It is Tam Reid from the net loft, who has never once spoken to you without a joke. He does not joke now. He only says your father's boat has turned for the sound, which means they are making for shelter early, which means they are safe, or near enough.

You let out the breath you have been holding since dawn. The hem of the dress is damp from the spray. You turn at last, and the sea is flat and full of light, the nets are drying on the rail like great dark lace, and somewhere under the quay a boy is laughing at something his mother has said.